


Trusting Things Beyond Mistake

by tenrhettwoods (castlesintheair)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Camping, First Kiss, M/M, Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castlesintheair/pseuds/tenrhettwoods
Summary: “We’re gonna have a great time, dude. Trust me.”

It’s nothing new, but Link does. He always does. He scratches at his arm and lets himself fall. 
Four years later, they go back to Camp Caraway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, yes, this is for the Fall Ficathon, and yes, this is a summer camp fic... _summer_... camp... let me explain.
> 
> I used the prompt _The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!_ by Sufjan Stevens, which, in my defence, is a song about summer camp. I started writing this months ago (because my _god_ that song), but I never had the inspiration to finish it 'til it popped up in the ficathon prompts. I do at least mention the fall. ;-)
> 
> Please put this [beautiful instrumental cover](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0LahBLSflY8) on loop while you read, if you're so inclined!

On August 14, Link sees the lake for the first time. By eight o’clock he's sure he’s made a huge mistake.

Rhett’s enthusing about his day again, his legs dangling over the edge of his bunk and nearly brushing against Link’s hair, and Link can't remember when he got so tall. Link ducks his head, retreating further into his bunk, and he tries to sound interested. He makes an attempt to add something of his own. When Rhett finally notices that his excitement isn't being reciprocated, the silence hangs in the air between them like flies on a honeycomb.

“What's wrong?” he finally asks after a minute, swinging his legs behind him and poking his head over the edge of his bunk. Link looks up for a second, then folds in on himself once more.

“Nothing. We should go to sleep, Rhett.”

Rhett frowns, but he doesn't argue. Link waits for the sound of rustling sheets and the creak of the twenty-year-old mattress before he loosens up, pulling back the covers in his own bunk and snuggling in tight. It gets awfully cold overnight, and Link wishes with everything he has that he’ll wake up in his own bed in the morning. He misses the smell of blueberry pancakes and says an extra prayer, just in case.

He's about to drift off when a whisper carries down the wood of the bunks, pulling him back to reality. “Goodnight, Link.”

“Goodnight, Rhett.”

❧

On the third day of camp, Link discovers that he has a reputation.

“What a sissy,” the kids whisper when they’re sure he can hear them. “Bet he’s a queer.”

So he slips away from Rhett’s side just before lunch and goes hunting in the grass, his ears ringing with the cicadas’ song. It takes a good few minutes, but when he finds what he's looking for, he feels strangely accomplished. He knows it's a bad idea, sure, but holding back never got him anywhere. Rhett was a risk taker. Rhett liked to show off, and Rhett wanted to be in on the action, all the time. Link could do to be a bit more like him.

With that in mind, Link hurries over to the dining hall with his hands cupped, one over the other, and rejoins his group, mostly unnoticed.

“Where’d you go?” asks Rhett, looking down at his clasped palms. Link doesn't want to explain himself - he feels a prickle of sweat on the back of his neck and dances a bit on the balls of his feet.

“Had to take a leak,” he says, looking straight ahead. Rhett eyes him suspiciously, but Link just turns away; enough that he feels shielded from Rhett’s curious gaze, but not so much that he can’t still draw comfort from his friend’s presence. His hands tickle, and his stomach flips.

It takes another five minutes ‘til they’re seated at a table with six other boys their age. Rhett’s gotten pretty friendly with them, and, for the most part, they seem to like him alright too. Link holds his hands in his lap and frowns at his plate, wondering what Rhett has that he doesn’t. Link’s never had much luck making friends, not on his own – not ‘til Rhett came along, anyway. He realizes that most of the friends they’ve ever had together, the rotating circle of kids that end up on the periphery of their somethin’ special, they were mostly Rhett’s friends first.

He wonders if he knows why, and his resolve strengthens in a sudden snap of courage.

“Hey,” he says, interrupting whatever conversation’s been happening around him. He says it again, louder, when nobody listens.

“What’s up, Link?” Rhett asks. Link ignores him and pulls his hands up from under the table instead. Without another word, he cracks his palms open in front of his mouth and catches the leaping grasshopper between his teeth.

The table erupts in a chorus of shouts. Link feels like he’s grown a whole foot taller; it’s almost enough to make him forget exactly what he’s just done.

Nobody calls him names anymore.

❧

The first week’s almost up, and Link tries not to think about how much longer he’s got left ‘til he can go home. He’s taken to writing letters, but he’s not sure who he thinks is on the other end. The counsellors stop by the cabin every night to take everyone’s homebound correspondence to the mail room, but Link always comes up short. He hides his paper and pens under his pillow ‘til the lights go out, and he only practices his cursive by flashlight once the temperature’s dropped below fifty.

_Dear reader,_ he writes, resting his chin on his hand, his blankets draped over his head. _Rhett and I went down to the lake today to catch frogs, away from the rest of the kids. It was nice for awhile. It was better, I think, to be on our own, apart from the group. I like it a lot more when it’s just Rhett and me. I wish we could pick up our sleeping bags and Rhett’s dumb yellow tent and just go off into the woods ourselves._

He stops suddenly, gasping through his teeth. Pulling his left arm up to the light, he finds a dime-sized welt just below the crease of his elbow. With a tiny whimper, he curls up tighter and hopes that his squirming has killed whatever’s lurking. He wants to wake Rhett, but he knows he’ll get teased. He misses his mom. He wishes Rhett would be soft, like her.

_One day when we’re older I bet we’ll be able to go out on our own as much as we want. I wish we were older. I wish…._

He replaces his pen and paper under his pillow, shuts off his light, and goes to sleep.

❧

By the second Thursday, Link doesn’t know how he’s survived in that cabin for twelve whole nights. He tells Rhett as much that afternoon.

“Don’t worry about it, Link!” Rhett replies, giddy. His head is almost entirely obscured by the lid of his suitcase; he’s been digging away for the past five minutes, shoving this and that into a pile at Link’s feet as he goes. Link’s stuck in the past, present, and future all at once.

“This is bad enough, Rhett,” he replies, kicking a wrinkled windbreaker off of his legs. “At least here we have real beds, and… well, the toilets don’t exactly work, but the water runs, doesn’t it? And there’s a nurse next door and everything!” he kicks Rhett in the thigh to drive his point home. “No nurse by the mountain.”

“It’s just one night,” Rhett replies, unfazed. He pushes a few more things aside, and then, satisfied with his separated collection of fabric and bug spray, he pulls himself back into the light of the cabin. He looks up at Link with a grin. Link scowls back.

“Y’know, I told you I didn’t want to come back here.”

Rhett rolls his eyes. “You’re such a party pooper, Link. It’s not all that bad. I’m having a great time.”

“Yeah, _you_ are.” Link watches as Rhett shuffles over and starts sorting through the things at his feet, throwing everything into the tiny backpack he’d brought specifically for the overnight trip. Link considers telling him that he’s doing a pretty rotten job, but he thinks better of it. Instead, he gets down on all fours and starts shoving Rhett’s stuff in the bag along with him. Rhett grins.

“We’re gonna have a great time, dude. Trust me.”

It’s nothing new, but Link does. He always does. He scratches at his arm and lets himself fall.

❧

Link supposes Rhett was right, for the most part. By the mountain, they get to share their own tent, just the two of them. In the woods, Link can pretend that the other kids aren’t there. When the logs stop crackling and the fireside songs have all been sung, Link can imagine that there aren’t any counsellors pushing him to do this and that, and he doesn’t have to play along.

It isn’t that bad, he admits. It _hasn’t_ been that bad. Lying in the dark, listening to Rhett and only Rhett breathing in and out beside him, Link allows himself to be honest. When he leaves for home tomorrow, he’ll be glad for it, but he won’t forget catching frogs together and nearly tipping their canoe and racing to the top of the rope course and chasing each other with mud pies after the rain.

❧

In the morning, Link wakes up alone. He doesn’t think he’s overslept, but he also can’t fathom why Rhett would want to be up before everyone else; either way, he reaches for the little plastic watch he got in a cereal box last spring. It’s too early, just as he’d figured. Regretting the cold, Link slides out of his sleeping bag with a shiver. He looks around for something warmer that he might be able to wear out of the tent, and he notices Rhett’s red toboggan peeking out from under his pillow. He grabs it and pulls it down over his messy hair. It covers his ears and helps a little bit; better than nothing.

When Link crawls forward and unzips the tent door, he’s not sure what he’s expecting to see. As it happens, Rhett’s seated on a log with his back to their spot, seemingly studying the ashes left behind in the fire pit. Link opens the door the rest of the way and makes his way out, crunching the twigs and leaves in his path as he moves to sit beside him.

Rhett looks over as Link settles in, his face betraying no fear. He hadn’t even checked to see who was coming up behind him; maybe, somehow, he just knew it could only be Link.

“Hey,” Link says, smiling sleepily. He rubs at his eyes and looks around the rest of the campsite; nobody else has stirred. Rhett’s eyes flicker upwards and Link remembers the toboggan. He laughs. “‘S’cold.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Rhett replies, and he rubs at his hair with a grimace. Without warning, he reaches over and grabs the hat from Link’s head, returning it to its proper home on his own. Link laughs and tries to swipe it back, but Rhett’s taller and a good defenseman; he leans out of Link’s reach with a grin.

Link gives up, rubbing his hands together and looking over at the charred kindling at their feet. “What got you up so early?” he asks.

“Just thinkin’,” Rhett replies, following his gaze. They watch as two dragonflies do a dance above the centre of the circle, weaving in and out of each other’s space, hovering just above the ground as if they could topple into the heap of black earth at any moment. Link presses his lips together and rubs at his thighs, unsure as to why he’s suddenly so uncomfortable. When he looks back at Rhett, he finds that he’s being watched.

“I never agreed with those idiots, you know?”

Link frowns, trying to figure out what Rhett’s talking about. He comes up short. “I don’t follow,” he says.

“When they were calling you names and stuff… and, me too. I don’t think you paid enough attention, but…” Rhett trails off, looking into the clump of trees at the edge of their clearing. “They were wrong. About both of us.” He pauses. “About you especially.”

Link’s doing his best to keep up, but that last line throws him. “What do you mean, Rhett?”

Rhett’s tapping his thumb on the inside of his thigh, and Link tries not to notice. “I mean,” he says, then stops. “You’re so brave, Link.”

This makes Link laugh out loud. “Me? Are you kiddin’?”

“Yeah, you!” Rhett replies emphatically, looking at him again. His expression is intense; Link leans back a little. “What you pulled in the dining hall, that was incredible. They left me alone too, after that.”

“I’m confused.” Link replies, trying to put the pieces together. “I mean, thanks Rhett, I guess. Um, it was gross.”

Rhett grins. “Awesome.”

“Alright,” Link says, laughing a bit. “But Rhett, they always liked you. All the rest of them. They always _like_ you. I’m the one people have a problem with.”

“I don’t think that’s true at all, Link.”

“Whatever you say.”

They both go silent again, listening to the rustling leaves at their feet. The wind’s started to pick up a bit, now that the summer’s wearing thin. It’s already gotten too cold in the mornings to go out without some layers, but Link favours the fall. Most people say that spring’s the time when everything feels new and fresh; Link could beg to differ. There’s something about the feeling of the air when the seasons change.

Link looks over at Rhett again, really _looks._ He feels his stomach tighten as he tunes out the sounds of the forest waking up around them, all birds and bugs and croaking toads. He gets rid of everything but the butterflies in his gut. Why is it so different with him?

Rhett seems to feel Link’s stare, because he turns again too. He doesn’t say a thing. Link reaches up to grab Rhett’s red hat, succeeding this time in pulling it off his head. He runs his fingers along the fold, but he doesn’t put it on.

“Link-” Rhett starts, but he doesn’t get to finish; Link cuts him off by leaning forward and meeting his lips mid-sentence. And the world is new; Link can hear the birds and bugs and croaking toads, all at once, loud and symphonic, ringing in his head. He moves forward again, bringing his hand to rest on the collar of Rhett’s coat.

But Rhett freezes, braces himself on the log, flinches away from Link’s hand and nearly topples backward into the pine needles littering the ground. He swears under his breath. Link catches himself on the bark and stares ahead, his ears ringing.

When Rhett finally stands and takes off into the woods, Link’s lips are as numb as the welt on his arm.

❧

They head back to the main camp at separate ends of the line, but they leave together the next morning at nine. Rhett’s dad picks them up in the Dynasty and tries to make conversation, but they’re mostly silent; they respond to his questions in nods and quiet grunts. Not much of a talker himself, he shrugs and accepts the welcome quiet of a low-energy car ride back to Buies Creek. He offers another zoo trip, but both boys say no, thank you in unison, then promptly turn away and get back to loading the trunk in turns.

They’re halfway home when Link falls asleep, his head tipping onto Rhett’s shoulder of its own accord. Rhett tenses, wonders if he should move – wonders if he should stay. He feels a bubble of guilt pool up inside him, a shaky panic building in his throat. He turns his head slightly, trying to face the open window to get some fresh air. Link doesn’t move.

Something buzzes past his ear and he jumps; almost immediately he checks to make sure he hasn’t woken Link. His heart hurts with the effort.

Rhett thinks he's just hearing things when Link starts mumbling in his sleep, but he quickly realizes that the warm draft on his collarbone isn't something he’s imagined. The words are jumbled at first, no clear sentences among them; they come intermittently, one at a time, interrupted by little sighs. But after a couple minutes of this, Rhett’s startled by Link’s sudden lucidity.

“He was my best friend,” Link says, almost unintelligible, almost a whisper. Rhett takes a deep breath. He knows he’s still asleep.

It’s too much to think about. Rhett turns back to the window and watches a wasp light on the edge of the glass. He isn’t as concerned as he knows he should be. They roll on.


End file.
